Some Of My Favorite Things

I start these lists with the reader in mind. I want you to feel free to add to or augment in any way you feel appropriate. So here are a couple starter lists that strike my fancy at the moment. You may also start random lists of your own.

Favorite words to say for it's phonetic qualities only, not emotive:
Proposal – especially when said with a Russian accent
Lookie – ok, this isn't a real word. But I still like it.

Favorite Shoe Brand Names:
British Knights
Buster Brown Wildcats


I Dream of Jesse

The Setup: The night of August 15, 2006 I was Jesse James. I could see that night's events through the eyes of Jesse James, but also as the third person witness. But, the whole time I felt what Jesse felt. I was Jesse James. The entire dream took place with my knowing that I was going to die. I knew how I was going to die (gun shot wound). However, I didn't know the moment I was going to die, or who would ultimately kill me. It was as if I'd read the last page of the book, where I knew generally what was going to happen, but I hadn't read the whole last chapter. So, there was some mystery there. The entirety of events to follow were seen through this lens of not having anxiety of dying, but of just when it would happen and who would do it.

Scene One: I was in a cabin that sat on a prairie surrounded by thick woods. In the cabin with me were two women that I couldn't identify in a lineup. I started the dream in preparation for a group of lawmen coming to apprehend me because, well, I was Jesse James. I don't know how I knew they were coming, I just did. I began planning on how I might counter attack. I ended up sneaking into the woods as the lawmen were coming for me.

Scene Two: The lawmen came and I laid in wait. A series of gun fights ensued as I fought individuals wondering if this was going to be the guy that was going to kill me. I fought off most of them and retreated back to the cabin. After a brief moment of rest the lawmen brought reinforcements and began shooting at the house. It was becoming clear that I wouldn't escape, so I gave up. The lawmen apprehended me and took me to jail.

Scene Three: I am in prison. My cell is hardly a cell at all. It is all darkly stained hardwood walls and floors. There is a bench with a nice red cushion. There are no bars. The walls of the cell do not extend all the way to the ceiling. In fact, they were only about head high. I couldn't see over them but I could hear. The door was about two feet off the ground and was only about shoulder-high. Also, in the back of the room was a buffet of food (I mostly remember fruit). At the front of the room near the door was a desk with a desk lamp turned on.

I had many visitors coming by to meet Jesse James, the great outlaw. One by one, people came in and I tried to be amicable all the while wondering if this person was going to be the one to kill me. Eventually, a man comes in who I definitely sense is the one to kill me. He approaches the door and asks me to put my fingers in a device so he can cut them off. I tell the man, "No, you can't cut off my fingers." As we argue over whether he'll be cutting off my fingers the Sheriff comes and breaks the two of us up. He sends the man to the next cell, and visitors continue filing in. All the while, the man who tried to cut off my fingers is chattering and drawing all these parallels between my life and Jesus.

Eventually, the man who tried to cut off my fingers comes back and calls me to the door. I walk up to him and see him reaching into his pocket. It is then that I know this is it.

He pulls out a really small pistol. I put my hands out in an attempt to block the bullet. The bullet passed through my hand and into the side of my stomach. I remember thinking, "maybe I can survive this." The man who shot me then walked into an adjacent room and turned a Sanitation Dial to the lowest setting. He assured me that I would never live because the germs would cause an infection that I couldn't survive. So, I laid on the desk and waited to die.

Scene 4: As I'm waiting to die, one of the women that was in the cabin with me came to see me. She told me she loved me. Somehow I knew that she had never told me that before. There was no kiss or a real ending to the dream. It just ended as I was waiting to die. I didn't feel scared. It was a foregone conclusion I was ready for.


What's a blog?

So, here it is my first Blog. This is significant because it was only 6 months ago that I hadn't the foggiest as to what a Blog was. It was six months ago that I sat in a banquet hall with this pocket-protector-wearing guy who started telling me about his blog and others he reads. I didn't have the nerve to tell him I didn't know what a blog was. I was a confused little boy. The conversation felt eerily similar to sitting in the back of my parents station wagon while they had an entire conversation s-p-e-l-l-i-n-g o-u-t e-v-e-r-y f-r-e-a-k-i-n-g w-o-r-d.

Thankfully, as I write these words I can put all that behind me, and I can laugh at anyone else who doesn't know what a blog is.